


Never Pretty

by Goombella123



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Boys in Skirts, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, Trans Yuri Plisetsky, about a year to be precise, and dresses too but fuck, if i reference santa once does it count as a christmas fic, lilia isnt in the actual fic but shes important because shes a GOOD COACH for yuri, look the plot here is yuri wants to feel cute and he's gonna fucking do it, phichit makes a cameo by being phichit, thats an important one, this aint a crackfic but memes were born from here, viktuuri is background here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9051049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goombella123/pseuds/Goombella123
Summary: Sat, 2:27you: I stole a bunch of clothes from viktoryou: theyre actually really cute but I need a second onionyou: *opinionyou: ehyou: same thing





	1. Chapter 1

Yuri Plisetsky had a natural talent for looking ‘ _pretty’_ almost 24/7, whether he was skating or brushing his goddamn teeth.

 

Not that he enjoyed it, particularly. _Pretty_ had no substance to it, and _pretty_ made people think that he was weak. _Pretty_ was the reason he’d stopped wearing skirts and cut his hair short when he was a kid so people would stop questioning him every two seconds, because boys can’t be that _pretty_ , right?

 

Fuck that. At 15 he’d starting growing his hair out again, and now that he was 16 it was the longest it’d ever been. Last season had him fully take advantage of his femininity- his body allowing for stretches and jumps that only women could do, giving him an edge over the competition. After winning the Grand Prix, he had all of Russia at his fingertips and more.

 

But people still called him _pretty_.

 

There are exceptions that don’t, of course. People who don’t handle him like porcelain, or a firecracker ready to go off. Though that doesn’t mean he particularly likes them.

 

One of these people is Ms Baranovskaya.

 

With her, Yuri could respect her for it- for the way she didn’t treat him like he was glass.  She was one of his coaches, after all. To her, Beauty was the opposite of Weakness, and that belief was born from her intense training as a Prima Ballerina. She knows what Yuri has had to sacrifice to get to the top. She knows that _pretty_ is an insult, an insult to everything he’s worked for.

 

But she also knows what the word implies, and what it’s come to mean for Yuri.

 

 

_Masculinity does not equal Strength, Yuri Plisetsky._

_But –_

_Be silent. You are unique- I expect you to use that! Use your body to your advantage!_

_Stop hiding and be Beautiful!_

Never ‘pretty’.

 

She’d hit a nerve that day, and it annoyed him immensely that she was right about him hiding.

 

 

“Yurio! How nice to see you!”

 

 

But it wasn’t as annoying as Viktor could be.

 

 

 His cheer is irritating as always, and Yuri groans internally as he answers the door. Scowling, he wills him to skip the formalities, and thankfully, he does.

 

  
“Do you need something?” He says with a smile.

 

“Da. I need you to stop calling me Yurio” Yuri spits.

 

“Other than that?”

 

“…I need a dress.”

 

Viktor raises an eyebrow, creasing his forehead. Yuri prays he doesn’t overthink this.

 

“…Now, what on earth would you _need_ one for?”

 

“Need, want, does it fucking _matter_?” Yuri yells, and Viktor has the nerve to _laugh_ at him.

 

“Language, Yurio. Come in!”  He says, ushering the boy inside from the afternoon breeze.

 

Yuri can breathe a sigh of relief, leopard-print shoes making their way into safety.

Viktor’s apartment was nice- always was- but something about it used to make it feel hollow. It was difficult to remember from the few times Yuri had been there, but the blonde got the impression that Viktor lived more in hotels and practise rinks than at home. He was right.

 

That’d changed a lot since Katsudon moved in.

 

It was the small things, he supposed, that made a house feel homely. Like the pillows and blankets and the giant dog that looked like fried chicken strewn across their lounge- Katsudon himself sitting on top of the mess as he was folding a basket of washing. The man looks up from it in surprise, and he greets Yuri enthusiastically.

 

“Ah, Yurio!” he calls- almost as brightly as Viktor, which is sickening. Yuri averts his eyes and grumbles.

 

“Why are you here?” Katsudon asks politely.

 

“He wants a dress!” Viktor calls from the entryway.

 

Yuri almost tells him to fuck off, but he doesn’t. Katsudon infuriatingly raises an eyebrow in the same way that Viktor did.

 

“A wedding dress?” Katsudon asks innocuously.

 

Ok, now he’ll say it.

 

“Fuck off.”

 

Viktor laughs from somewhere behind him, and Yuri contemplates swinging around to sock him in the nose just for the sound of it.

 

Katsudon ignores Yuri and his foul mouth, folding two jumpers in one quick, practised motion.

 

“What do you need it for? A date?” he says. He sounds genuinely inquisitive, the piggy bastard.

 

Yuri sneers. “Why would I be on a date?”

 

Katsudon shrugs, smoothing out one of his shirts. “You seem pretty close to Otabek.” he says, nonchalant.

 

Yuri blanches, and _then_ Katsudon laughs along with Viktor- he’s had it _up to fucking here with these two,_ this married couple shit-

 

Yuri doesn’t take the bait and deny it, but still, those idiots are standing (sitting) there and _jeering_ at him. He steers the conversation back on topic.

 

“So?” Yuri growls, and Katsudon gives him a half smirk over his glasses.

 

“So.” Katsudon echoes, setting down a pair of creased pants. “Viktor has some old dresses somewhere that don’t fit. A few nice skirts, too. I keep telling him to get rid of them-“

 

“- But they’re so _cute_ , Yuuri, and they’d fit you too, if you’d wear them. They were expensive and I-“

 

“- you’re such _a hoarder!”_ Katsudon yells half-mockingly, and Viktor whines at him.

“Yuuuuuuuri!”

Katsudon launches a pair of socks at Viktor from across the room, and _now_ Yuri can laugh because it smacks the idiot right in the face. Viktor whimpers like a kicked puppy, and he returns his socks to Katsudon like one, too. Yuri half-expects the Japanese man to pat Viktor’s head as a reward.

 

(Such an obedient husband. Makkachin’s got competition.)

 

“Anyway.” Katsudon chuckles, snapping Yuri out of the moment. “Feel free to borrow them, if you want. Or keep them, and never bring them back. Saves me an ebay listing night.” He snorts.

 

 _God_. Yuri wanted to puke at the sheer _domesticity_ of the situation.

 

“…Where d’you keep em? ” He mumbles instead. Yuri shuffles his feet as Katsudon points him down the hallway.

“Our closet, I think. Somewhere in the back. Vitya?”

 

“Yes, my Yuuri~” Viktor calls as he approaches.

_Oh Jesus._

 

“Can you help Yurio find what he needs?”

 

Viktor smiles as he claps Yuri on the back, and the boy shudders- he knows he _hates being touched the fucking bastard I’m gonna-_

 

“Anything for you, dear!”

 

Internally, Yuri prays for death.

 

\---

 

“I hate you, geezer.”

 

“That’s sweet of you, Yurio.”

 

“You always play up the couple shit around me.” He grumbles, and Viktor turns to face him. He’s got that shit-eating grin of his on, Viktor smile #34- one of Yuri’s least favourites. He’d delight in wiping it off his face, if he could, but Katsudon is in the other room. Knocking his husband out will probably annoy him.

 

His husband who’s grinning at Yuri with his dumb, heart shaped mouth.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Yuri sneers at him.

 

‘This’ meaning several things.

 

Theres ‘this’ _,_ as in _this over-the-top pda shit that I can’t fucking stand, that makes me hate you even more than I already do._

 

And then theres ‘this’, as in what Viktor is doing for him. Giving him old clothes he’s clearly attached to and not asking questions about it, not asking questions about why he specifically wanted a dress.

 

Viktor answers both ‘this’ things in one, succinct sentence.

 

“Because it bothers you.” He sings “It’s funny when you get jealous.”

 

Of course Viktor does things just to get a rise out of Yuri. And yet, he gives him what wants.

 

“Hurry up so I can get out.” Yuri growls under his breath.

 

Viktor’s teasing stops there, and Yuri is at least a little bit grateful for it- though it’s probably just because Viktor has vanished into the never-ending expanse that is his clothes collection. Yuri’s seen it before, and it’s almost bigger than his reputation- which, for a figure skating ‘living legend’, is massive.

 

Yuri doesn’t follow him in, but he refuses to look around Viktor’s bedroom. He also refuses to sit on his bed and wait, or stare at the walls dotted with photos of Katsudon. He especially doesn’t want to acknowledge that it’s a shared bedroom now, even if that fact makes Viktor stupidly happy.

 

He’s right to say that Yuri gets jealous.

 

He always has been, in some shape or form. But that jealousy has changed, from year-to-year, so it’s just easier to say that Yuri hates Viktor so he doesn’t have to label the feelings he has towards him, or his husband that he admired a little too much for a long time.

 

Both of them, in some respects, always managed to be better than him.

 

They’ve always been able to have things Yuri couldn’t because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry to the people who read this before i fixed it oh jeez
> 
> split into two cause a03 was being a butt


	2. Chapter 2

Yuri ends up with a silver garbage bag full of hand-me-downs that he slings over his back like a reject Santa Claus. He’d asked for _a_ dress- singular, not Viktor Nikiforov’s entire fucking wardrobe ages 13-17 (summer edition).

 

It’s what he got from him, though. It’s awkward as he takes the train to Beka’s hotel, but he reminds himself that he’s Yuri Plisetsky- the Ice Tiger of Russia who can get away with anything. No one dares question him.

 

He sends off a couple of quickfire texts to let his best friend know he’s coming, though it’s to keep him entertained on the short trip more than anything.

 

 

Sat, 2:27

 

 **you** : hey beka im coming over

 

 **you** : I stole a bunch of clothes from viktor

 **you** : theyre actually really cute but I need a second onion

 **you** : *opinion

 **you** : eh

 **you** : same thing

 

 **otabear** : I thought you hated him?

 

 **you** : I do but I appreciate his fashion sense

 **you** : dont tell him I said that

 

 **otabear** : Haha, never.

 **otabear** : Also, onions and opinions are very different and I am unsure why you think they are the same.

 

 

Otabek always texts in perfect grammar, like someone’s grandmother discovering Facebook for the first time. It’s exactly something he’d do, too, and it makes Yuri grin every time he talks to him.

 

Or maybe it’s just because Otabek is behind the messages that they make Yuri so weirdly happy. The boy looks up from his phone to yell at some old man across from him, his smile replaced quickly by his trademark bitch face- a non verbal way of telling everyone in the carriage to piss off. The other passengers shrink away with mixed looks of amusement and befuddlement, and Yuri huffs. His phone has another new message.

 

 

Sat, 2:30

 

 **otabear** : Wait.

 **otabear** : You didn’t actually steal from Viktor, did you?

 

 **you** : beka no

 **you** : he gave them to me

 

 **otabear** : Oh.

 

 **you** : but if I say I stole them it makes me look Cool (tm)

 **you** : yknow??

 

 **otabear** **:** I don’t, but ok.

 

 

His phone is running out of battery.

 

 

\--

 

“Should I have let you in through the chimney?”

 

“Go away”  


“Ok” Beka deadpans, and he moves to close the door. Yuri sticks out his leg before he can do so.

 

“Don’t- what the fuck, Beka, I wasn’t being serious”  


“I know.” Beka practically grins, and Yuri sighs- though he’s smiling too.

 

Yuri isn’t sure how Otabek got permission to take time ‘off’ mid season- but then again, Beka wasn’t taking much of a break. He’d been practicing at the same rink as Yuri with Yakov and Lilia, and as far as Yuri knew, he wasn’t pulling any punches.

 

He fit in well here.

 

The hotel room isn’t special- it’s plain, but nice. Kind of like Viktor’s place pre-Katsudon, he thinks. Yuri makes a beeline for the sofa by going around Otabek, plopping his ass down on the leather couch and the plastic bag with it.

 

“You coming?” he calls, and Beka obliges.

 

 

“So.” the older boy begins, sitting on the floor across from Yuri.

 

“Show me what you stole.”

 

And Yuri does.

 

He immediately hates the first thing he pulls out.

 

“Fucking hell, Nikiforov-“ he curses, dropping the gaudy pink skirt to smack his palm to his forehead. It almost looked like a small girl’s ballet costume- no way in _hell_ Viktor was pulling that shit off now. What did he think Yuri was, a fucking twelve year old?

Otabek murmurs thoughtfully. “It’s… very frilly. And sparkly. Are you sure Viktor didn’t have a sister?”

 

“No.” Yuri seethes at him, absolutely mortified.

  
He hears Beka chuckle as he pulls the disgusting skirt from his hand.

 

“That one’s a ‘no’, then.” He says, with the barest hint of a smile. Despite his amusement, he’s still calm as ever, and it’s placating. Yuri grumbles.

 

“Nikiforov better have _something_ decent.” He says, and Beka hums gently in return.

 

Yuri pulls out a couple more with dissatisfied looks. Viktor had a Pastel-Lolita phase at some point apparently, but besides that, his old closet is actually quite tasteful.

 

Thank god Yuri didn’t know him when Viktor was his age. He would’ve kicked his ass for dressing like that, all frills and bows and gross girly shit. Yuri can’t talk though- he’s the one rummaging through these dresses that _he asked for_. He’s starting to regret it a little.

 

“That’s a sundress, yeah?” Otabek points at one- a grey striped dress that went down to the ankles, something you’d wear with light sandals on a beach during vacation. It was considerably less hideous than the rest of Nikiforov’s collection.

 

“Yeah, what about it?” Yuri asks, holding the piece up.

 

Beka waves his hand, dismissive. “Nothing. Thought it looked nice.” He mumbles.

 

Yuri raises an eyebrow.

 

“Beka, every dress on me is a sundress. There’s no way in hell this will fit me.” He says.

 

The teenage Viktor Nikiforov was a goddamn giraffe, all long limbs and straight hips and shoulders that were just starting to come in. Yuri wondered if the man mourned his lost androgyny- but then he remembered his hot-spring voyeurism and changed his mind.

 

Beka looks at Yuri oddly, in a way that that the younger doesn’t understand at first. But then, he says; “I didn’t mean it’d look good on you.”

 

And a switch clicks in Yuri’s head.

 

Beka is curious, and amusingly, Beka is _embarrassed_.

 

Yuri’s mouth splits into a grin.

 

He doesn’t dare tease the man- not when he’s been this patient with him- so instead, Yuri pulls out an A-line skirt. One that’s all black with a belt attached. Yuri makes an effort to sound casual when he speaks next- Otabek’s embarrassment is fuelling him in a funny way he can’t describe.

 

“You’d suit something like this a lot better, I think.” He says, holding the piece up for scrutiny. “Could you still ride your bike in it?”

 

Beka is quiet for a moment. His face is carefully blank, like he knows Yuri is trying to get a rise from him.

 

“Never tried.” He replies eventually, with a noncommittal shrug. “Never worn a skirt. You?”

 

Well, he gave it a shot. A little disappointed at the non-reaction, Yuri has to think before he answers. And he thinks carefully.

 

Considering he’d shown up with a bag full of _girl’s clothes_ and said nothing to oppose it, Yuri figures Otabek is safe. Safe to admit that he’s a little more feminine than people know.

 

“Not… for a long time. It was in competition mostly, but-”

 

Yuri shrugs.

 

“Everyone used to tell me I was _pretty_ when I wore dresses, and that’s not what I wanted to be, so I stopped.”

He hunches over a little, and Beka seems to notice.

 

He doesn’t say anything but “That’s fair.”, with a quiet nod and an air of solidarity.

 

Yuri  doesn’t think Beka is going to say anything else, so he resumes rummaging through his bag. Except Beka does- his voice gentle between the two of them in this lifeless hotel room.

 

“Why are you interested now?” he asks, and for this, Yuri has to pause.

 

He could say something about reinventing himself, or repeat what Lilia told him, but he doesn’t _._ The simpler truth was that he just felt like it- he missed the swishy fabric, the way it tapered to his hips and the feeling of freedom in his clothes choice, being able to wear something made for his body. It wasn’t a satisfying answer, but Yuri says it aloud anyway. Surprisingly, Beka doesn’t question it. Like _that’s fair_ earlier, Yuri supposes. He’s a man of few words, but the words he does say speak volumes for him.

 

It’s still weird to Yuri, though- he’s used to being bombarded with questions on the topic of his appearance and _are you sure you should be skating mens?_

 

So he asks Beka about his reaction, or lack of it- for his own curiosity more than anything else.

 

“Not everything has to be complicated.” Beka says sagely. “It’s nice that you’re just… going with the flow for once, Yura. I don’t need to quiz you about it.”

 

It’s the most Beka has said all afternoon, ironically, and Yuri scoffs. “That’s probably because of you. The ‘going with the flow’ thing.”

 

Otabek tilts his head. _Why’s that?,_ it means.

“You seem like… a wanderer, I guess.” Yuri muses. “Someone who knows how to live without thinking about things. It’s probably the motorbike.”

 

Beka chuckles, resting a hand on his chin. “Probably.” He says.

 

Yuri’s pocket suddenly vibrates.

 

“You got a text?” Otabek asks, and Yuri murmurs affirmative. He scrunches up his nose as he pulls out his phone. Beka crawls onto the couch next to him, so Yuri tilts his phone to let him see.

 

 

Sat, 3:40

 

 **phichit+chu** : i want hamster tits

**phichit+chu** : wrong ChAT WRONG CHAT HOLY HELL IGNORE M

 

 

From besides him, Otabek frowns. “Why hamsters?”

 

“I’ll ask.”

 

 

Sat, 3:41

 

 **you** : beka wants 2 know: why hamsters

 

 **phichit+chu** : flat

**you** : ???

**phichit+chu:** flat boob flat hamsters

 

 

Yuri snorts.

 

 

Sat, 3:41

 

 **you** : same tho

 

Otabek laughs, and Yuri nearly has a heart attack. The sound isn’t beautiful, by any means, but it’s loud and genuine. It warms Yuri the same.

 

When his odd laughter fades, Otabek points out- “Oh- Yura? You forgot about the clothes.”

 

He motions to the abandoned plastic bag in front of them. Half of the outfits in there have ended up on the floor by now, though it doesn’t look _too_ painful to clean up.

 

Yuri thinks about it for a moment.

 

“…You pick something.” He says finally. “I’m getting bored.”

 

Otabek stiffens beside him.

 

“I- don’t know anything about dresses.”

 

Yuri shrugs. “Neither do I. We’re even. Now just… pick something, before I change my mind.” He grumbles as he rises from the couch.

 

 

\---

 

Otabek picks a plain black dress in the end- which is good, because Yuri was scared of it clashing with the amount of leopard print on his shoes and his jacket. At least Beka noticed that Viktor’s sparkly crap made Yuri want to hurl- he didn’t dare consider _touching_ any of those.

 

Yuri changes into it without a word, though he takes a deep breath to consider what he was doing before taking his shirt off in front of Otabek.

 

The implications of the act aside, Yuri had other things to worry about.

 

He turns his back to make himself feel better, but Beka can still see it- his binder. Yuri can’t judge his expression, and he hasn’t made a sound-so as Yuri goes to pull the dress over his head, he growls at him.

 

“Beka, say something.”

 

He doesn’t. Yuri pulls down on the dress, only to find it won’t budge.

 

“… I’m stuck. Fucking _hell_.” He screeches.

 

And then Otabek laughs.

 

“Don’t- it’s not _fucking funny_ , help me!” Yuri s practically squawking at him. His weird-ass laugh isn’t helping.

 

“Sorry, Yura. You’re not supposed to put that one over your head. It’s got buttons at the back.” He wheezes- actually _wheezes_ \- and Yuri glowers at him.

 

“Thanks for _fucking telling me_.” He bites, though he manages to get the dress up over his head.

 

There’s no point facing away from Beka now- with his awkward, throaty laughter, the tension dissipates. Beka had approached him, and he’s taking the dress from his hands- undoing the buttons and holding it open for him to step into.

 

It throws Yuri for a loop a little bit.

 

“You’re not surprised?”

 

“Surprised about what?” Beka asks, and Yuri can only stare at him incredulously.

 

“The binder, Beka.” he deadpans.

 

“Oh. Yeah, no. Not really.” He replies.

 

Yuri stutters, opening and closing his mouth- until Beka claps him on the shoulder.

 

“You were 10 when I met you.” He says. It’s his way of explanation.

 

Oh.

 

Make that twice Yuri’s forgot the first time they met.

 

“Yura.” Beka coos. Yuri’s gone into a daze, and Beka’s low voice snaps him out of it. He frowns at the older boy.

 

“Da? What?” he snaps in annoyance.

 

Otabek doesn’t flinch. “You’re beautiful, Yura.”

 

As he says that, Yuri almost chokes on his own spit.

 

Coughing, he thumps his hand to his chest- and when he looks at Otabek, he’s goddamn _grinning_ , his hand still clasped firmly over the strap covering his shoulder.

 

“You can’t just _say_ shit like that” Yuri sputters. “You’re going to kill me.”

 

Otabek pans. “That’d be a shame. I wouldn’t want to lose my best friend.”

 

And _best friend_ sounds suspiciously like _boyfriend_ , but Yuri is very, very sure it’s just his ears playing tricks on him. His throat constricts and makes a funny, dying noise despite it- or maybe it’s because Beka has his hands gliding up his arms and over both his shoulders now, pulling up the sleeves of the dress to rest over Yuri’s slight frame.

 

He suppresses a shiver.

 

“Hold your hair back for a sec,” Beka says, and the younger boy complies. He tries not to register Beka’s fingers working at his back, or Beka’s breath ghosting over the sensitive hairs on his neck.

 

The older boy spins him around and smiles when he’s done. He does that a lot, when they’re together, and half the time Yuri doesn’t even notice. He does right now.

 

 

 “You really are beautiful.” Beka whispers near his ear.

 

“I get that a lot.” Yuri dismisses him, but he blushes.

 

“No- not _pretty,_ Yura _._ Beautiful.” Beka whispers again. Repeating himself to get his meaning across, and he does. Yuri understood him the first time- he’s just trying to _believe_ him. Luckily, Beka is patient.

 

 

 _If I’m beautiful_ , Yuri thinks, _then you’re absolutely gorgeous._

There’s so much more substance to that than just _pretty._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can pry feminine trans boy yuri from my cold dead fucking hands i goddamn dare you
> 
> this took me 3 days to write? it was hella fun tho. yuri talks like me, meaning i get to swear and be dumb and write sarcastic ass sentences.
> 
> actually, this fic came about half because i was projecting onto yuri and half because of my best friend who is also deep into otayuri and is the reason for phichit's hamster tits text. the thid half (thats not how math works but ignore) was cause of the response to the other otayuri fic i pooped out. thanks to everyone for that! i hope you liked this fic just as much :D
> 
> also! this was an exercise in 'show, not tell' for me. part of the reason i spent so long on this was cause i was trying to not be obvious or outright state my plot points here because i know thats not great writing. i see a lot of trans hc fics are directly about coming out and im very tired rn but my point is i wanted to do something different. something purposely subtle like yoi's canon, cause i admire the way that everyone is very obviously not straight but at the same time its not in your face. its good ass writing.
> 
> merrby cringles

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry to the people who saw this before i fixed it
> 
> my authors notes are being weird but hope u enjoyed this and stuff


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